Tracking the group of bards from the town while staying out of view was beyond easy.

They parted from the fair sized settlement at the crack of dawn, eager to cover as much ground as possible in the day. They planned on reaching a known resting place before the black of night could seize the sky. A good idea, there were notices being posted around town for quite some time about the growing danger of the sea of trees. Especially at night. The execution was far from successful though, even if I hadn't interfered.

There was a stretch of land between their destination and their starting point that was completely void of trees, a path roughly fifteen feet across. Grass filled the path now, broken only by two thin lines that were clearly the work of caravans. At one point, years ago, the trees and other foliage was removed for the purposes of road construction, but the settlement the group was headed towards began to dwindle, and the demand and reason for the road fell. The path was still used though, by groups such as the current one, and passer-bys often helped tidy up whatever 'clutter' nature attempted to revive.

It was only an hour of travel when the bards began to slow down, stopping for jokes, stories, and other related activities that they just had to stop repetitively for. They even practised a tune of theirs. Progress eventually chugged to a halt, and by noon, I got bored of waiting for them to reach the half-way point between the two villages. At first I thought I would sit in the trees and shower them in arrows, but they would likely take cover and be a general nuisance. Instead, I walked up behind them while they were on yet another merry break. They saw me and recognized me instantly; I hung around their performances quite often in the last few days, even chatted to them a bit.

They weren't just regular performers. In their possession, now towed by mules, were massive twenty-foot-tall replicas of the instruments they played. They were all 'real' instruments, if one could find someone large enough to play them they could be played. These unwieldy objects were placed in a wooden rectangular frame, with wheels on the bottoms so they could be brought from town to town. These were not simply musical monuments to their art, no, they were much more. They were made for the purpose of amplifying volume, allowing the bards to play for many people at once, even in places without any sort of stage or amphitheatre. By whatever form of magic they possessed, the normal sized instruments they played were somehow 'linked' to these framed instruments. The notes played by the group of five would be projected accurately and the force multiplied to proper scale.

I saw potential in this. Not for music, but for siege weapons. A single person effortlessly manning a battering ram by means of a toy version, perhaps even multiple rams from a single toy was an interesting image. Perhaps if the toy version featured wheels the action to move the objects would become effortless too. Being able to quickly and easily operate any such weapon would be a boon, because as far as I saw things, these bards were borrowing energy from elsewhere to make large objects easy to use. Of course, I wanted to understand the hows and how to recreate the means to do so, and hoped to extract the magical components being used.

When I saw the look of recognition in their eyes I smiled and waved at them, then jogged to join them. I told them I adored their songs and wanted to accompany them, and they weren't opposed to the idea in the slightest. I noted the mules' reaction was not quite as kind, but no one else had paid any attention. Either that or they did not care. Before forward movement was once again a focus of the group, one of the bards began to inquire about my bow. The question was cut short by a throwing knife to the neck, and quite tidily three of the others fell as well to the weapons. The last one turn and ran, but not for the trees or for cover like I had expected. He grabbed his harp, and after an arrow to the back made him fall, he rose to his knees and began playing a sweet tune that I hadn't heard from them earlier. I figured such a thing was far from threatening, they had already practised a few times. I let him play while I retrieved my knives from the other four now deceased bards. Doing so soaked my hands and dirtied my sleeves quite a bit.

I walked towards the harp player slowly, weapons now back where they were before I met them, my hands dripping from retrieving the knives. The soft strings and warmth of a cloudless sky at noon with no canopy to filter it was very soothing, and were it not for the man coughing or the mules moving forward with their luggage, the scene would have been as peaceful as a picnic. I quickly cut the mules loose; didn't want them taking my prize away or stumbling into the woods and damaging them. Afterwards, I walked slowly toward the one still living, his back to me, clearly focused on his song. I took the harp from him, an action met with no resistance. I asked, "Requiem?" his response was said with a proud smile, "Perhaps for you.""

No longer contested by my arm pulling the arrow in his back, my foot drove him to the ground. The arrow seemed unharmed, so I added it back to the quiver. I place the harp on the wooden frame of its counterpart, thinking it'd be a good idea to pull them all off the road. I sighed at the thought and looked up to the bright blue sky, procrastinating. I had no idea how long I would need to study these things, so pulling them in far enough to remain out of sight would be ideal. A noise caught my attention though, pulling me back to the task at hand. A faint whisper crawled forth from the trees themselves, but more importantly, that was about the time I saw -him-.

Lok'tar was quickly discovering that the road to glory was not very smooth, nor was it ever easy or immediate.

The orc returned from his adventure in the Teranok cutlery works without much of a scratch. People fled from him in droves and even the one man who stood up to him seemed to have second thoughts after a couple of minutes of "conversation". As a stereotypical point of pride, orcs are never precieved as an introspective race, or one that really considered why their actions affected people like they did. So, without really thinking about what was going on, the orc had grabbed the largest "shiny" (which of course, meant gold-plated) things that he could find. He lugged the 6 foot long fork and spoon over his shoulder all the way back to the tavern where he was going to meet the man that he "picked them up" for. Unfortunately, the man was nowhere to be found and he ended up sitting at a table obstinately waiting for three days.

Blind faith, growling at people asking you questions and generally looking threatening as you sit with overly-large utensils lying beside you only manages to get you so far. By the end of the third day, the optimistically dense warrior had been threatened, pleaded with, bribed and even (in a horribly laughable attempt) seduced in an effort to at least get him away from the table. He didn’t pay for anything, but he managed to get anything that he wanted due to his overwhelming presence.

Eventually, he left. Out of boredom. He realized that things were going nowhere. He brought the overwrought cutlery to the bar and demanded that the barkeep give him money for his wares. Being a rather cunning person, the barkeep handed him a heavy purse filled with copper, silver and the occasional gold piece and then gave him a drink for the road – only too happy to be rid of him.

(And that’s why there are giant cutlery pieces hanging over the hearth at the Jug and Kettle Tavern in Teranok…)

After his incident in town, the orc warrior decided to go afield and try his luck just looking for trouble to happen to him. This highly effective (if horribly unprofitable) technique has been employed by orcs throughout the ages, although it was more often the fact that they brought the trouble (rather than the trouble finding them) that resulted in the most memorable encounters. So, in an effort to employ this time-tested technique, Lok’tar grabbed his money, his whacking stick and headed off towards the edge of town and into the forest.

Now, walking around for days on end, looking for the opportunity to cause glorious combat or treasure-finding to fall upon you can cause great amounts of hunger. Since orcs are not usually known as the greatest woodspeople, the noise of Lok’tar’s approach caused most anything that he’d be able to eat to scatter at the sound of his approach. Eventually, the forest was silent for miles around as all the animals eventually clued in that Lok’tar was hungry. Since the forest had become so silent, the orc finally found the source of the only noise that was beyond himself in the woods around him – a beehive hanging about seven feet off the ground. The smell of the honey that was dripping from the beehive was just too much to resist for the hungry orc. He grabbed his whacking stick and obliterated the beehive with a single swing. The alarmed bees scattered in all directions and the orc was left in a sticky mess of honey vapour and crushed honeycomb littered across the ground. As Lok’tar stooped down to pick up some honey from the ground to get some sustenance, a swarm of bees began to angrily buzz around his head, some trying to land on him and try to exact their final revenge upon hi s flesh for his wanton destruction of their home.

This caused the orc to wave his club wildly about, trying his best to shoo off the offending insects. As would be expected, this did nothing to repel the bees and those that didn’t meet their demise at the end of his club intensified their attack. Eventually, even the thick-skulled orc realized that he was in trouble and began to panic. For some reason, the orc heard a sound like music coming off in a general direction of…well, he just began to run wildly in that direction…Eventually, the orc began to see that he was going to be coming up to a road in the middle of the forest and that there were giant objects in the middle of the road. From his previous experience with people and giant objects, he was a bit sceptical that anyone would stay around to help him, but even if there was a chance, he had to take it.

Which is why, as he burst through the treeline, trailing honey and bees in his wake, any whisper that someone may have heard turned into a full-blown:

AGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

As he made his way towards the only standing being in the area – a pointy-eared elf.

Whatever breeze that may have been funnelled through the clear-fell died down, allowing the warmth of the high sun to go uncontested. Even still, the black fabric-clad elf in the clearing felt very cool, nearly cold. A tingling sensation ran throughout her body too; while not comfortable, the reason behind the experience lifted a weight off her shoulders.

Killing the bards meant that she had fulfilled her side of the deal, at least until the next lunar cycle. A number of victims was never given, as no words were ever spoken. Only the cool feeling and extended spine tingle that worked its way throughout signified completion, which reached as far as the fingertips before leaving. It was distinct. It felt almost like an echo or pulse as it creeped about, not something likely to happen for any other reason that the elf could think of. Her demonic lifeline would be sustained for the time, and such knowledge was invasively relaxing. While her form decided for her to be the most mellow she has been since the last time she met her requirements, she was trying to force herself get worked up. She had quite enjoyed the company of the bards, as well as their songs, and they never seemed to want anything beyond enough food and a place to crash at night. While she was trailing them on the path they seemed like bundles of spirit and joy, immune to the assumed hardships of the past. Even in death the one showed bravery and strength, presumably the others would have too, given the chance. They were good people that died because they presented an opportunity and caught the wrong sort of follower. No matter how hard she tried to hate herself for what she did, her body exuded a feeling of contentedness, as though everything in the universe was exactly how it should be at that point in time.

The apparent threat muttered by the bard before his death, as well as the whisper that had grown from white noise into something that sounded humanoid, loud, and like it was approaching, likely -should- have spawned some mote of fear in the ranger. Instead, even when the near frigid waves within finally broke and allowed the elf to once again feel the heat of day, she simply looked toward the forest in curiosity. What had the bard managed to do in his last moments? Was a friend about to arrive to take vengeance? Was there some sort of vicious monster he knew to call on with song? Coincidence? Guessing what the sound could be was silly, as it sounded like it was approaching at a very decent speed through the trees. Ellia had half a mind to wipe the claret beads from her hair and face before the arrival, but a glance at her much more-so coated hands shut the notion down.

A lack of regard for her well-being and a generous helping of curiosity kept her rooted to the spot, not even moving to draw a weapon. She would see what the bard did instead of fleeing, even if it killed her. Perhaps it was naive to think so, but at that point she was under the impression that Zu would be able and willing to get her back on her feet again should the worst happen.

It was obviously yelling, though whether it was from anger or fear, Ellia couldn't yet tell. She looked on in anticipation, thinking it may well have been fear that drove the being behind the shout. Perhaps the song was a curse and some random person was unfortunate to get pinged by it instead, she thought, an idea that entertained her quite a bit. She really wanted to see some poor individual running for their life for something they did not do. She decided she'd help them were that the case, unless the object chasing them was freakishly terrifying. She imagined a twelve-foot tall wolf type creature running on hind-legs, its face twisted and distorted by unnatural magics. Certainly, she thought, there were worse things in the world than a girl just trying to live, even if it were the most selfish way she had ever heard of.

An orc being chased by bees was far from expected. It was not a monster, not some mighty avenger, possibly not even a threat at all. She was a little disappointed in the bard's choice of staying for song when all it brought about was this, and hoped that it was some sort of ill luck tune or that this run-in was just coincidence and the real fun was to come later. Still, she wasn't really sure of what one does to avoid a cloud of angry bees, and being undead didn't make stings suck any less. A quick look around revealed something she already knew; there was no water in the immediate surroundings, at least that she could see. Observation showed that the bees were chasing the orc, springing the ranger to arm herself with her mahogany finished bow, a weapon that wasn't loaded until Lok'tar was already uncomfortably close.

There are two things that are universally known. One of them has to do with land wars in Asia, while the other involves Sicilians and death.

Another, perhaps less well known, is this:

Quote:

Stopping a creature running at you full speed that happens to be almost twice your size by merely yelling at it is a bad idea. Especially if that creature has some sort of motivation to be doing that running in the first place.

Lok'tar's glorious adventure had turned into just one bad day. He knew that there was glory to be had and he merely had to go out and find it. It just didn't turn out the way that he had expected. Who knew that beehives were bound to be infested with angry bees? Seriously, where does an orc find out about that kind of stuff except for the hard way? So, there he was, busting past a couple of large and unwieldly musical instruments and screaming towards someone that he needed to help him - or at the very least, give him a fight (later, of course). Unfortunately, the pointy-eared being merely nocked an arrow and made ready to fire while giving the command to stop.

That wasn't going to work.

Lok'tar paid no attention to the elf. He was going to have to figure out how to get rid of these infernal creatures on his own. There was nothing that would really help him in the area that seemed like it would be a good idea. However, it seemed like the elf would be his only chance to get any help at all. If he went back into the trees, there would probably be more bees. If he stayed still, he would likely get profusely stung. The pointy-eared one might shoot him, but he had to figure out something. He had to stay on the move. Because of those things, he did the only thing that seemed like it would work.

He ran around the elf in circles.

He continued to circle the elf, aimlessly waving the club at the cloud of bees that were above, in front and behind all at the same time. Several more bees met their demise at the blunt side of the club, but that wasn't nearly enough to get rid of all the attackers and served to antagonize them even more. The circle that the orc was running wasn't enough to make any serious contact with the elf, but if he moved a step or two to the side or happened to overly commit to any given strike, the elf would likely be part of any resulting collateral damage. His honeyed attackers may make things interesting at some point as well.

She had given the being far too much credit. She had anticipated the club carrier to understand that if stings were an issue, volunteering to being shot at by a -much- larger stinger wasn't sensible in the least. The idea of not reacting hadn't even registered as a possible outcome, the readied arrow flying by uselessly as bees and their target decided the best place to be was around an elf. She wanted to be out of the way of the charge for obvious reasons, quickly throwing the bow with her left, holding the string to create a pivot-point. It wasn't secured, but it was better than having the weapon damaged or broken from the rush.

A roll or dive was preferred, but Lok'tar was fast. Already being close hardly helped improve the time given. Having precious few options, sleeves rose to protect the ranger's torso as she braced for a weighted collision. She unwittingly shut her eyes before the expected impact, and hoped that the notably larger being wouldn't run full tilt into her. The footsteps thundered to her, accompanied by the cloud of anger, the elf ready to accept a rather poor continuation of the day.

Instead of falling like a pin to a bowling ball, she felt a few of the insects land on her hands and a wall of movement circling about. They immediately found themselves difficulty in the blood that had begun to dry, but such difficulty failed to dissuade stingers from being an option. Still with far more calm than the occasion called for, Ellia was able to make focused, accurate swats to her miniature attackers after she peeked out to ease her curiosity to discover her good luck. Of course, this self-defense only seemed to justify the new target, and more of the vicious soldiers became willing to leave their home wrecker to avenge those who had fallen from slaps.

The bees landing in her hair and on her clothes were annoying enough without the large orc running about swinging a club nearby without abandon. For all the effort Ellia had given in working herself up to not be relaxed with nothing to show resembling success, this situation had quickly and efficiently showed her the sensation could be beaten. As more bugs moved in, tension built, and a bud of anger quickly developed into panic over both countless stings and getting caught by either an orc or his club. She shrieked a hateful cry when she tried to shake the bugs from her honeydew hair, and desperately wanted away. Each way she looked seemed to be blocked by a running figure at all times, as though he were a blur of bee avoidance. Trying to run or dive out seemed to be more pain filled than allowing the stinging to continue, so Ellia took a break from swatting to draw a throwing knife in a reverse grip. It was a small weapon not intended for close use or stabbing, but she needed a way to convince the caster that there was something worse than bees nearby. Bracing herself the best she could to deal with the possible collision, she swung out in the opposite direction that Lok'tar was running in at her shoulder height, thinking to catch him in something vital. At least hit him hard enough to end the tunnel of speed she was trapped in.

She needed to get those instruments off the road before she was too swollen or broken too.

Lok'tar had been hoping to get away from the bees, but that hadn't worked. Being able to fly was too much of an advantage. Running in circles had gotten rid of a few more of them because the pointy-ear had been a very useful helper up to this point. But there were still way to many of the bees zooming around his head and midsection, buzzing and humming angrily. Swinging his club brought more of the attackers down, but the pointy-ear had yet to be of any real use to the cause. He had been running about, wanting the pointy-ear to help him, when suddenly, he made another turn and came point-to-chest with a knife.

Constantly moving his torso back and forth to allow his arms maximum impact on the bees had allowed him to run into the knife without doing a whole lot of damage. There was a sick scraping sound as the knife tore through various layers of his leather armor on his chest, the weapon almost popped loose into the air above his shoulder. The sudden changes in speed and rotation, combined with the sound, caused him to stop dead in his tracks.

He looked at the knife.

The only sounds in the air were the loud heaving of his chest, the persistent buzzing of the winged army that surrounded the orc and the much shallower breaths that the elf were taking in the midst of the chaos. It was a tableau of unusual events all strung together at once. The orc looked puzzledly at the elf and then the knife again and then flashed the biggest, most ridiculous looking orc grin of all. Then he swung his head back and laughed in a way that startled all the birds in the surrounding area and caused them to scatter.

The pointy-ear finally has a good idea!

Yes! Lok'tar said as he tried to tap underneath the elf's arm with his club. Yes! Good idea! Kill all bees with knife! Bees hate knife and you kill them all! But not only you, me too!

With that, the orc got on his knees in front of the elf and started swinging back into the air above his head, fully expecting the elf's help in the matter.

The attack was a failure. There seemed to be no blood drawn, and judging by the orc's reaction, did little to convince the man to flee. A still unsecured bow slapped her backside to rub in the poor outcome. The bees, without a person to chase, started getting their act together. Spurred on by the pheromones of their fallen comrades and the benefits of not flying in circles, their stings became more numerous. The throwing knife in Ellia's had was promptly dropped without thought to swat at a bee that had landed next to her ear.

It was then she really wished she could simply conjure up a fireball and call it a day. She wanted little more than to see the bees and their bringer burn and die so she could go about removing the few stingers she had embedded in her in peace, then get back to the task with the nearby instruments. A few more angry swats and a tap from a club passed before she noticed Lok'tar had decided to not only stop running around, but apparently thought standing on his knees would help things. Help they did, as without a moving wall keeping her in place, she was free to exit. While a fireball was not in the program, she did have access to an area of effect ability, and when someone gives you an opportunity to get rid of a lot of angry bees at once, you take it.

"Thanks!"

She spun around, took quick note of the musical obstacles' positions, then shut her eyes to avoid an unpleasant close-up view that a bee in the eye would offer. Whether it was memory or hope speaking to her, her mind told her it was possible to outrun bees if the terrain was desirable enough. Even were she wrong, she figured she could still hit about half the bees if things went well, which would certainly be a step in the direction making the situation tolerable. Bow in hand and facing the ground, she sprinted forth blind, disturbed by the sensation of running into a swarm of angry insects. Once she no longer felt the flicks of small bodies colliding against her, she spun back around to target the unfortunate orc and the enveloping cloud around him. She charged an arrow with her foreign energies, desiring to take down as many of the winged terrors as she could.

She concentrated on Lok'tar's abdomen, and let the arrow fly. She would almost prefer he get out of the way, if only to hit more bees, but hitting the instigator wouldn't be too disappointing. The arrow was coated in her Creeping Death poison and was set to explode in the middle of the cloud around Lok'tar, whether he was there or not, in an attempt to kill many bees with wood needles and kill or disable the those that would receive otherwise non-lethal wounds with the toxin, but would only explode if the arrow reached its planned destination. Perhaps the hive-mind would be aware enough to leave after feeling a rush of toothpicks (which would undoubtedly look more like a wall of javelins to the would-be home defenders), and perhaps the orc might have a harder time getting close again with a tranquillizer running in his veins.

It turned out that the pointy-ear actually wanted to help. The idea that she had about crushing them made a lot of sense. He continued to swing his club because violent bees would kill each other too! If more bees were dead, that would be less bees to hurt them. More dead was good, even more dead was better and less pain was better than both of them put together. Unfortunately, the elf dropped her knife, which made Lok'tar wonder just how much she was going to help. The look on his face dropped and he started to formulate a new plan.

However, something unexpected happened...

She continued her preparations to kill the bees by picking up her bow, stringing it and notching an arrow. The orc was almost giddy with excitement. The bow was a whole lot bigger than the arrow and would be very helpful in killing the bees. Heck, even the arrow was bigger than the knife. Having both of those together would be much bigger and much better at killing the bees all at the same time. The orc kept swinging his club in an effort to make sure that he was doing his part at getting rid of the bees. He would not be a slacker in all of this, no sir.

The elf then ran towards him. Thinking that the arrow would be loosed at point blank range, he braced himself for impact. Once the elf went by, he was confused again. Upon turning to look at the elf since he had lost sight of her for the moment, Lok'tar realized that he was about to be shot in the chest. His self-preservation instincts started to kick in, but by that point, the arrow was well on its way - when it exploded! The explosion was amazing, sending shots of wood everywhere, only lacking a large exploding noise to make the sight truly impressive. The orc howled in delight as the splinters flew everywhere, causing the rout of bees in all directions, aided by the mist that seemed to be released at the same time.

That mysterious mist confused the confused orc in a manner that was more confusing than the confusion that he was already confusedly suffering from. He had sustained a large amount of slivers over the top of his body. A decent number of them had superficially embedded into the surface of his leather armor and robes, but some of them found exposed flesh on his face and neck, causing the poison that had been distilled into the arrow to take effect almost immediately.

The orc just stayed on his knees, swaying back and forth unsteadily, putting his arms out in front, trying to get some purchase on the bow, the ground, the elf's legs...anything that would help him get steady again or get him back to his feet. He wasn't going anywhere quickly for the moment...

Motionless behind the dark mahogany limbs of a short-bow Ellia stood, unsure of what to make of the situation. Certainly a spark of joy was had; her idea worked better than she had hoped, something that didn't seem to happen too often. But the temporary absence of a stinging swarm brought thoughts beyond the unpleasantness of the situation and possible solutions, thoughts that weren't quite as uplifting as the idea that the shot was anything but a small win. She knew these bees were normally passive and would only be roused to such aggression under reasonable situations, especially if it meant dishing their aggression out on her. For the most part life forms beyond the humanoid avoided the elf since her fight with a man named Cerit. Today marked the first time in months since a bug had landed on the Ranger, or had even flown close.

The triumph was overshadowed by the realisation that the bees were obviously retaliating to something the orc had done. Given his apparent affection to the club he wielded against the swarm, she could only assume their fury was brought about by a complete destruction of their home, or enough damage that it may as well have been. It was not as if bees cherish much else besides their nest and their queen enough to spend so many lives taking revenge after-all. His destruction led to many of them being slain, but only because he thought it a good idea to involve others in his deserved situation. Her scowl hardened.

"Help me? You can help me by staying still so I can kill you! These insects don't attack unprovoked, and to drag me into your cause and force my hand into killing so many is terrible! Your death would be nothing less than justice!"

She wanted to flee, to leave the man to whatever effort the dying swarm had left to give him, but leaving the instruments in hopes that they would still be around when she came back would likely end in disappointment. Losing the instruments now would mean she would have killed the bards for nothing, and Ellia refused to accept that as an outcome. Better to kill the trouble-maker and hope that the bees would be satisfied and leave than to place the outcome of the day in hope. She reached for another arrow (how hard would it be to hit a poisoned target whom is already on his knees?), but the shot was not to be taken. Apparently bees don't recognise English enough to understand that the Ranger didn't want to kill them, and was indeed only interested in joining them in their credible attack on him. The stingers that had already found their mark were painful and hot from their own poisons, and Ellia was not intent on inviting more. She did the only thing she could think of; run around the instruments and try to shake them, while trying to not let the bow in her hand get caught on anything. Leaving Lok'tar a view of her back was not desired either, but panic isn't known for parting clarity of thought.

Scrambling away, she only wished that the splinters and stingers in Lok'tar were causing more pain than she felt. At least, she thought, things would be in her favour that way. Running around began to speed the poison, which neatly placed in the elf a headache right where most headaches were to be found.

The pointy-ear had finally given him a bit of respite from the swarm of bees that had been following him since he had gotten hungry. Needless to say, he wasn't really hungry anymore. The combination of the splinters and the stingers would provide a rather annoying, potent buzz that would follow him for a while, but they wouldn't be likely to give him any serious pause [Minor Pain Ignorance]. The best part about the whole thing is that he wouldn't have to worry about the entirety of the swarm following him or that buzzing. That constant, annoying, buzzing. If Lok'tar were to be honest with himself (which he usually was), the buzzing was far more debilitating than the pain itself. He was conditioned from birth to ignore, heck, even welcome pain on some levels. But the buzzing totally messed with his head. Of course, there would be no way that Lok'tar would have ever used the word "debilitating". His current thoughts read:

Oi! Doze bugs are gone. I can tink again!

Of course, he never realized that he had been poisoned either, but hey...thought's a thought.

He starting thinking soon enough to hear the elf talk about "help", "I can kill you", and "justice". And something about insects with hands...he'd have to talk to the elf about that...

For the most part, the elf had rejected his offer for assistance and decided to run off in a circular, panicking motion that was very similar to what he had been doing moments before. There were a few bees following her and she was trying to shake them by running between a few of the carts that were on the road. He wasn't too sure what they were doing there, or really what was on them, but he had to help! After all, she was a female in distress, and that was what all the stories were about, weren't they? This was another shot at glory in his illustrious career! He would go and help her out, she would be grateful and they would stride off and he would deliver her to whatever patron was responsible for her care in exchange for the glory and honor that he was due.

After all, she had helped him...

The orc stumbled to his feet, grabbed his club and ran after his new found protectee. He tried to get close enough to the elf as she was running around. When he did, he would start swinging his club to try to catch the stragglers that were still trying to harm her.

The difference between loving nature in theory and loving nature in practice began to cover itself in neon signs and make obnoxiously loud noises to force the attention of anyone who dared to not notice. Were the elf less pre-occupied with her situation, she may have drawn a parallel to the rather disappointing near death experience she had encountered while in the desert she had so loved. Such situations were so much more enjoyable when they happened to someone else, someone who made mistakes that surely the listener of the story would never have made. Without any negative experiences, surely they would be similar, if not identical, to the glorified near perfect creations ones' mind would anticipate. Feeling sorry for the bees was quickly becoming a distant thought again as the elf took comfort in knowing each sting she felt was another dead bug.

The pounding in her head suggested the running about be put to an end. Perhaps, she thought, things would be better if she just covered her face and let the things kill themselves instead of elongating her misery. Then, providing the poison didn't kill her, she could repay the kindness the stranger brought with him. After such a splendid first impression, it was not likely she would ever see a friend in him anyway.

The circular idea was terrible. Even when she managed to shake a few off, she would eventually run back to them. Then they would simply resume the chase. At first, when her headache begged her to stay still for a while, she dismissed the idea as one of panic, but the hopelessness of fleeing within a small area dragged on her spirits. She rounded an edge of a wood frame, entertaining the idea of making some amplified vibrations just to stir them up a little more, goad them into ending their life instead of leaving to rebuild. She near ran right into the porcupine of an orc, barely evading his slightly-less wood frame. She pushed off hard off her left, taking her right and away from the nearby instrument, ducking her head as a helping club swatted by. Hindsight would show the attack had no way of connecting without a poorly placed jump, but frantic peripheral vision thought her head was about to be separated from her neck.

Clubs are worse than bees.

Her free right hand found itself in possession of a second throwing knife, and in a desire to avoid a future where the club connects the elf twisted around mid-run to hurl the small blade into the throat of Lok'tar. At least try to. Momentum disagreed with her clearly not thought-out attack, tossing her to land on her rear. As an added poke of fun, the fall served to throw off the trajectory of the blade enough that she'd be lucky to hit the man in the forehead. She cursed at the impact with the dirt, the grass content to disappear beneath her just to remove the chance of extra padding in the form of the wheel tracks. The handful of remaining bees wouldn't be too far behind to giggle at her mistake.

Being graceful under pressure was something she really wanted to work on.

Lok'tar weaved in an out amongst the contraptions on carts, still not totally sure what they were or what they were for, but being that they were large obstacles that even he wouldn't be able to amble over in time to keep up with the elf, he simply went around them. Next time he'd have to consider smashing them, he would. It might cut down on the amount of time needed to save the pointy-eared creature in need. The elf seemed to be getting more and more annoyed with the situation, making all kinds of comments about bees and such, and he totally felt her pain. (In this case, quite literally.) Those bugs were more than annoying, but she had since caused all but a couple of bees to disperse from chasing him. He needed to return the favor - glorious warriors were never in anyone's debt. He wasn't about to start giving out IOUs today.

As he rounded the corner of one of the cart-shaped objects, he realized, aside from having to jump over a deceased beast of burden on the way around, that the elf was ducking under one of his swings, causing a score of bugs to be smote with a single blow. He smiled to himself. It seemed like the elf was finally willing to cooperate! All he would have to do was just keep swinging a few more times and the insects would be dealt with and everyone would be able to go along their merry way. He might want to find out what was with all the bodies that he had continually hurdled during their sessions of running around in circles, but right now...he had a job to do.

The elf pushed away from him, obviously needing to put some distance between the two of them so that he would be able to help her without hurting her too much. This was one of the first times in their meeting that the pointy-ear showed something approaching intelligent thought! The orc was glad that she was finally coming to her senses. She would obviously be better off cooperating because no one really needed to get hurt today any more than they already had. Lok'tar was all too lost in the reverie of finally achieving some manner of understanding with the elf that he barely noticed the throwing knife go whooshing over his head. It quite literally split a few hairs (of the few that he actually had).

She had thrown herself into the dirt in an attempt to get rid of the remaining bees, but it didn't seem to help a bit. The elf had also attempted to help herself by throwing a knife at the bees that were trying to get her. Long, pointy, thrown objects weren't a really good idea when it came to this...he was a little disappointed that she couldn't just stay still and let him help. Although, she was on the ground now, so he thought that he'd educate her a bit.

He raised the club above his head with both hands, wincing a bit from the residual pain of the stings and slivers and charged towards the elf. He let out a yell as he went:

BUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGSSSS!!!!

Lok'tar brought his club down in a massive smashing motion, hoping to free the elf from as many of them as possible in what would hopefully be the last blow he needed to strike. The elf would have to get out of the way, though...

The attack was finally coming to an end, the bees that were not dead or asleep understanding that their future home would need protectors too. Still, twenty or so chose to haunt the elf, and to a lesser extent, the orc. Panic had finally began to recede, but only temporarily. The improving situation did not deter the use of the club, indeed, it seemed to motivate the muscles behind the swing, having victory be so near.

Perhaps it was that taste of success fuelled the attack to endanger the one he was trying to help. She was still under the mind that the last swing was intended for her as well, so the sudden advance did not come as a shock. There was no time to reach for an arrow and fire it, and throwing a knife was just as unlikely. All three of her remaining knives were in sheaths on her back, digging somewhat into her back. Her weight had probably pinned the knives in, twisting to remove one to twist back and throw it properly required a focus she could not conjure at that time. On her back with a light swarm of angry bees and a club about to bear down was not a good environment for focus.

Her left was blocked by the frame of a large harp, rolling up the frame and through the strings would be a feat like no other. Only having one desirable choice, Ellia tossed her bow to her right the small distance she could muster from her position on her back, then crossed her arms over her chest. A very sour feeling roll to the right followed, to which the stings and the knives hanging on her back only improved. The club was only dodged by a small margin, she saw, and completed the idea that her opponent was in fact trying to harm her. Which was odd considering his line about helping, but that seemed like it happened ages ago. Maybe he understood the attacks she made were just as much against his well-being as they were meant for the bees, if not more-so. Feeling the tip of her tossed bow digging into her spun ribs, the elf stopped rolling and again took up her weapon. She stood up, though the pounding in her head made that task very long and just as difficult.

"I was trying to get you to stop swinging that thing at me."

She didn't attack, or even ready an arrow. The constant banging in her head demanded stillness for as long as she could afford. For now, she just waited for the bees to catch up, or for the orc to charge her again. The stings she had suffered felt all the worse after being rolled on, and her back was displeased with her actions as well. She hurt, there was no doubt about that.

Lok'tar gave his yell and it came down to the ground, satisfactorily killing a few bees in its wake. The whiffs of vapor that the slaughtered foes left behind smelled faintly of guts and honey - mostly honey. It felt good to be helping someone that was in need. The bees didn't stand a chance against the combined attack of the warrior orc and the pointy-eared one! No matter what came out of this, Lok'tar would feel good about helping someone in need. The fact that it was a person of the female variety would help the story immensely. The fact that he rescued a pointy-ear would probably have to be "overlooked" in the re-telling. Then again, that might make him look better against as he was a member of the obviously superior race in this instance. If he had been saved by her on the other hand, why that would just be downright embarrassing. There was no way that he'd ever admit to that. Being saved by a pointy-ear, not to mention one that was a girl would just be one of the most insulting and embarrassing things that he could suffer. Nope. Good thing that wasn't anywhere close to being the truth, in his opinion.

As the hulking warrior looked to the ground to discover where his club had landed, it was well away from the elf's huddled form. That was a good thing. There was no sense in mangling someone that you were trying to save. It would result in regret and remorse and all kinds of other non-orcy type emotions. No one wanted to feel those things, especially not orcs. It just wasn't a good thing. Having a carefully timed swing that resulted in maximum carnage and absolutely no injury whatsoever was a brilliant stroke on Lok'tar's part. He'd have to remember to congratulate himself on that one later and make sure to suitably include that in any re-telling that this story garnered. What had started as a rather unfortunate misadventure on his part was now turning into a full-blown date with glory!

"I was trying to get you to stop swinging that thing at me."

The statement hit the orc like a load of rocks (because bricks are just too square and confusing...). Could it be true that the pointy-ear didn't want to be saved? Was it possible that he was wasting his time? Lok'tar's face screwed up in deep thought. As he was doing that, he instinctively swatted away a few bees as they buzzed around him, sending a couple of them to a permanent home in the sky. He leaned on his club, pondering the elf's words.

The bees decided against catching up. The last swat came from the orc, and almost like a signal, those who were able up and left. The persistent buzzing and attacks had come to an end, and without dialogue or much audible movement from the two remaining souls on the grass road, the forest returned to the 'too quiet' Ellia had become accustomed to. A stumble to the right and back dropped her into a sturdier stance to compensate for the dizziness, the poison emphasizing the effect of spinning about greatly.

There was no forward movement from either of the two. The face opposite her own seemed to be trying to figure something out, possibly hindered by a similar rhythmic banging in his head from small sacs of venom left behind from their tenacious guests. Her equilibrium had been tampered with, she noticed, from the stinging nearest her ears. As much as she wanted the unnamed person nearby to die for causing her situation, the fidgeting and wobbling simply to remain upright, as well as the difficulty of seeing exactly where he was from the spinning in her eyes, made the chance of killing him with an arrow while he was preoccupied sounded strangely challenging.

She shut her eyes, using the lull in action to do what the orc was doing with his time, thinking. Not seeing a constant swimming action was adding to the clarity, though the constant pounding and ache still made it a pain. She sighed as a new sensation arose; the bunch grass that she just rolled though cut at and irritated her already sore skin. She still wanted to kill the orc for the barrels of joy that he had brought her, but was very worn from the panic and pain. Even if she was still ready to fight, the likelihood of being able to attack accurately wasn't enough to put confidence in, and she had no idea how Lok'tar was fairing. She had seen nothing of him besides his club, and was unable to discern how he was handling his status. It would be wise to disengage, she told herself.

Why not both?

Words pried from her lips before she was even sure what she was saying.

"You... you aren't here for the instruments... are you? You aren't with the other guys who were just here?"

An uneasy hand wiped her brow, then rested there to provide shade, as if the sun was too bright for her pale eyes. She looked at the orc before her, squinting as though she had yet to really take in any features, before slightly jumping in false surprise.

"Oh! I'm sorry! We had just been attacked by some bandits before you arrived, they figured those large instruments would sell for a lot of gold. The others died, but we did manage to drive them off. Um, they said they were going to get their bigger friend... so I, ah, assumed that was you. And I was panicking from the bees, and... I'm sorry if I hurt you! Thanks for helping get rid of those bees too, I thought I liked them, but they kind of suck now. Sorry for that justice thing too..."

The dark mahogany disappeared back over her shoulder. She stood upright, cautious to avoid falling over or looking too weird. It was tough to toss out the giggle and crack open such a wide smile when trying to fight back the urge to spill her would-have-been last meal, but she managed.

"You saved me, didn't you? Do you think you could help me when those mean guys come back? They could be here any minute now! We gotta be ready! You can take them, right?"